


Life-Line

by Pamela Rose (pamela_rose)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose
Summary: Sometimes you just can't help yourself.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137





	Life-Line

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Cheap Thrills (1981)

by Pamela Rose and C.J.M.

_It’s so cold and I’m so lonely.  
Hello, is there anybody else here?  
Hello,  
Won’t you throw me down a life-line?  
I’m so afraid of darkness,  
And down here it’s just like nighttime.  
Down,  
And there isn’t any hope for me,  
Unless this dream which seems so real  
Is just a fantasy.  
(Harry Nilsson)_

It began as an ordinary cultural survey of the planet Sorran in the Eridani System. Easier than many, in fact, for this time there wasn’t the problem of avoiding the inhabitants and trying to do the research from a distance. The Prime Directive was still in force, but on this occasion it was being bent a trifle. The social scientists were fascinated with this culture and wanted to study it at close range. McCoy’s private cynical take was that somebody’s niece on the Federal High Counsel needed to obtain a doctorate in anthropology.

The planet itself was something of a paradox. Peaceful and pleasant, it was strangely free of predators, poisonous plants, and other customary dangers that were ordinarily present on a primitive world. The geologists located another puzzle in a dense type of ore that quite effectively resisted sensor scan. The terrain was hilly and very rocky, but vegetation and water were abundant.

The natives were humanoid, on a unsophisticated level, but according to brain scans possessed a high degree of intelligence—far more than was indicated by their simple stone and thatch dwellings and crude tools. Unlike many primitive cultures, they were gentle, compassionate beings who seemed neither frightened nor awed by their odd visitors. According to the scientists, there was no evidence of wars or even territorial disputes between villages.

At first the natives almost seemed to be expecting the landing party, welcoming them with smiles and gifts of flowers and beautifully colored stones. The only question they asked was, “Where are your Voyagers?” And when one of the Anthropology Team answered that the survey party were all voyagers who had journeyed from a far place to learn their ways, the natives appeared bewildered. They clustered together and discussed it; then an older man stepped forward. He explained that his people had mistaken the strangers’ meaning, and thought them there for another purpose. It was disappointing, but the old man bid them stay as long as they wished, and hoped their future Journeys would be pleasant and more successful.

Kirk had wondered if the translator implants were working properly. Taken in one way, the elder’s remarks could have been interpreted as ‘since you don’t have a purpose in being here, don’t let the door hit you on the way out’. On the other hand, they displayed no hostility in the least. As time went by, Kirk relaxed.

The natives’ friendliness seemed genuine. They were helpful, though quiet, and did no more than watch with uncurious but polite amber eyes as the survey party collected rock and plant samples. The landing party had, of course, dressed in the native clothing rather than Starfleet uniforms and had been surprised at the quality of the material. The native clothing consisted of silk-like tunics, intricately woven from plants that contained flexible threadlike filaments in the stems. Weaving and primitive husbandry were the primary occupations.

On the third day, Kirk strolled outside the village, feeling a little lazy and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sweetsmelling breeze. In any case, there wasn’t much for him to do. The work was really up to the social scientists and other specialists. But even though he returned to the ship each evening, he still preferred to keep an eye on the progress on the planet during the day. At least that was how he was rationalizing his recent outbreak of cabin fever. In truth, he often became restless remaining on the ship while it was in safe orbit. And lately he had felt more restive than usual, though he didn’t quite know why.

The Captain’s daydreams were interrupted as Spock fell into step beside him. He smiled at the Vulcan. “Finish your research?”

“Affirmative, although there are still several areas on which we have contradictory data. The ore we discussed earlier has me a puzzled.”

Kirk stopped short, eyes twinkling. “‘Puzzled, Mr. Spock? How could that be possible?”

“Uncertain of the data,” the Vulcan corrected smoothly, but his glance shared the humor of his slip. An un-Vulcan term, and he seemed to be using them a lot recently.

“You still haven’t discovered what it is?” Kirk became serious as he considered the anomaly.

“We have broken down some of the components, but there are elements that appear almost unnatural—manufactured. Unfortunately, I cannot be certain of this either. It is quite perplexing.”

Kirk shrugged, unable to keep up his interest in the subject. “Oh, well, looks like you’ve finally run across something that has you stumped. You’ll figure it out eventually. How about the Anthropology Team? Are they making any progress?”

“Not a great deal, I’m afraid. The natives are quite willing to talk, answer questions, demonstrate their skills, but they are peculiarly reticent about their history and religious beliefs. The only information they will give is that everyone must make his journey in his own way. Overtly, they have no gods, no religious rituals or superstitions of any type—or none they will reveal—yet the hills are honeycombed with tombs, carefully constructed, and carefully tended. They have a marked reverence for the deceased and would not allow our scientists to inspect the burial grounds except from a respectable distance. As the tricorders will not penetrate the ore, it is impossible to be more specific as to the method of interment. The current theory is that this is a form of ancestor worship. While this is not an uncommon, except for the obvious respect for the deceased, they do not speak of ghosts or spirits or give any indication that they believe the dead has any influence on their present lives.”

Kirk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And you say they don’t have any formal history or form of record keeping? Not even a village storyteller or something like that?”

Spock shook his head. “No, Captain. They say only that they are here to assist voyagers, and to eagerly await their own journeys.”

Kirk looked up. “I suppose the tombs could indicate a belief in some kind of afterlife. Perhaps the words ‘journey’ and ‘voyage’ are what they term death.”

“That is the conclusion at which the anthropologists have arrived. It does seem a logical possibility. But it does not explain the level of this culture. The inhabitants are of extremely high intelligence; yet all indications are of a static society, advancing very little if any—essentially stagnant, in fact. It is difficult to determine how long this condition has been in effect, but a rough estimate would be somewhere on the order of five thousand years.”

“Five thousand—?” Kirk whistled unbelievingly. “You mean all these years, generation after generation, have lived their lives looking forward to dying?”

“It would explain their curious lack of progress,” Spock considered. “If the sole purpose of their lives is to prepare for death, it might seem . . . superfluous . . . or even immoral to attempt to improve the quality of life, particularly as they are relatively comfortable.”

“A _sin_ to improve or to advance?” Kirk shook his head. “That not right. Humans need to strive—”

“Captain,” Spock gently interjected, “these are not Humans, nor must they share the same goals.”

Kirk shrugged, chagrined. “You’re right, of course. I’ve just never been comfortable with passivity.”

Spock regarded Kirk’s pensive expression with a touch of concern. He knew too well Jim’s tendency to interfere on occasion to “set things right”. In fact, it was less than two years ago that they had encountered another stagnant culture—Vaal—and Jim had little compunction in blowing up that particular culture. True, it had been necessary to save the _Enterprise_ , but the Vulcan was very cognizant of Kirk’s instincts and that the Captain had been more than satisfied by that necessity.

Kirk noticed the apprehension in the Vulcan’s eyes and grinned sheepishly. “You can relax, Spock. This isn’t Gamma Trianguli Six, and there’s no Vaal compelling these people how to live. And my ship isn’t in danger this time. It’s none of my business how this society exists. What I’d like to know is why you always suspect I’m ready to jump into everything head first.”

Spock looked down, discomfited; but then he met Kirk’s eyes, sharing a secret smile. “Because you generally do,” he retorted. Then he added, “And I might point out that I made no comment on what I thought you might do.”

Kirk flashed a grin. “Maybe I can read minds.”

“Indeed? That is a most disquieting thought.” Spock’s tone was light, but he averted his eyes again. He could feel Jim’s gaze on him, and an odd tingle raced up his spine.

“Sometimes I wish I really could,” Kirk whispered, grasping the Vulcan’s shoulder. He dropped his hand quickly as he felt the muscles tense. Taking a deep breath, he looked around. “Well, Mr. Spock, I was going to walk down to the lake. Would you care to join me? We should be able to make it back before dark.”

Spock hesitated, glancing back at the village, which was already some distance away. Although this had so far proved to be a very placid and safe planet, it was never a good idea to become too far removed from the landing party; and the area around the lake had not been explored. Still, Jim was set on going, and no matter how safe it appeared to be, Spock had no intention of letting him go alone. “Very well, Jim. If you wish.”

Half an hour later, they arrived at the lake, which proved to be an abandoned stone quarry. The water was crystal clear and very deep; the sunset mirrored off the smooth surface in streaks of red and orange. Kirk paused to soak in the beauty of it, thinking back on the dozens of worlds where he’d stumbled on similar special moments. He smiled at Spock, delighted that his friend was here to share this one.

Silently, Spock acknowledged the moment, but it wasn’t the landscape he was watching. It was Kirk. This had become an unconscious habit in the last few months. There was such a glowing energy and exuberance about the Human, a verve for life that was unbelievably attractive. And the open affection drew the Vulcan like a moth to the proverbial flame. Perhaps an uncomfortably accurate simile.

The ship had been running smoothly, the crew was happy and busy, and the last few missions had been unqualified successes. While this present mission was not terribly vital, it was gathering useful and interesting information; and more important, it was giving Kirk a much-needed opportunity to relax a little—though he certainly wouldn’t have admitted it. Despite the recent successes, Kirk had appeared restive of late, oddly unsettled—not unhappy exactly, but slightly on edge, as if on the verge of making an important decision.

Spock watched as the evening breeze tossed the sandy hair across Jim’s forehead, noting how the sunlight and streaks of color reflected and danced in his eyes. Kirk’s chin was up at its usual jaunty angle; a satisfied smile lit up his face. Life had been going well for the Captain lately, and this was displayed in the aura of contentment he exuded now.

Suddenly Spock wanted to pull back from the surge of unnamed emotion that rushed through him almost every time he was alone with Jim. He couldn’t understand this strange, illogical reaction, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

“Jim, we should start back to the village. It will be dark very soon.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Kirk said regretfully, taking a last look across the quarry. As he started to turn, something caught his eye. “Spock, did you pick up any readings on hot springs or anything like that?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Well, what do you make of that?” He indicated a small cloud of what appeared to be steam or smoke across the water.

Spock’s tricorder hummed for a few seconds before he looked back at Kirk. “It does not register.”

“Let’s go take a closer look, then.”

Doubtfully, Spock glanced at the sinking sun, but followed Kirk without protest. He was curious himself. As he paused to adjust his tricorder to a wider spectrum, Kirk moved ahead. Before the Vulcan could pick up any concrete readings, there was a gasping cough from the Human. Kirk’s knees buckled; he collapsed.

Spock rushed forward, but as he knelt beside the Captain, the dizziness hit him also. He swayed, realizing too late that the cloud was some kind of gas. He tried to pick Kirk up, but his muscles were lax, and he fell helplessly over the Human’s still form.

* * *

Eelec was the Elder, so it was natural that the problem be brought to him. Unsurprisingly, he was not happy with the turn of events. Two of the strangers were making the Voyage unexpectedly, and it was difficult to know the correct action to take. The visitors had obviously stated they hadn’t come here for this purpose, and their companions might be angered and saddened that they were unable to witness the departure. Yet tradition demanded the only correct course was to give them proper honors in burial.

“It is an unhappy occurrence,” Eelec said solemnly. “They did not believe as we do, and were not prepared to embark on the Journey. But there is little we can do now, except follow the teachings.”

“But their ways are so different from ours, Eelec,” one of the group protested. “Will they rest easy for the Journey in our sepulchers?”

“I have considered this,” Eelec replied thoughtfully. “It will be unpleasant to make the Journey in an unknown land. If you were across a dark sea, would you not prefer to make the trip with a friend? A blind one could see that these two were closer than brothers. We will place them together so they might afford each other comfort in the Voyage. I do not understand it fully, but these visitors fear what is most natural in life—its end. Perhaps if they are not alone they will be less frightened.”

“But the others—what shall we tell them?”

“The truth, of course. We were at fault for failing to give warning of the bad air across the stone pit. They seemed so wise in so many ways, I did not think—in any case, we must bear the consequences of their just displeasure. They came in peace and friendship, and we should have prevented what happened. Before we tell their friends, we must do our duty by these good men. Have them cleansed, and have the chamber prepared.”

“As you say, Elder.”

* * *

Spock opened his eyes to total blackness. It took a moment to calm the instinctive panic he felt—the deeply embedded memory of Deneva. _No, that is over. I am not blind. But, where am I?_

Feeling soft, cool skin beside him, he turned to his side in the narrow space to discover his companion in the dark. Quickly his fingers told him who it was. The shape of the face, the long brush of eyelashes, the strong throat, the smooth, muscled chest—it was Jim. He was alive and breathing easily, although lightly, but Spock didn’t want to wake him until he discovered their situation. His memory was sketchy, almost blurred—or drugged. He still felt slightly euphoric. Not worried, merely curious and bewildered.

As he used his hands to explore the chamber, he began to recall what had occurred, and a suspicion of the meaning of this place came into his mind. The space was small, barely room for two to lie flat. There was a faint but pleasant scent of spices, but the air seemed fresh enough. The ceiling was just high enough to enable him to sit up, although uncomfortably. He and Kirk were both nude, but the soft, quilted, satiny lining beneath them cushioned the rough rock, and there was a light, silk-like covering over them. It had been necessary for Spock to pull it from their faces. Reluctantly, his mind dredged up the term. _Shroud_.

As he started to turn back to Kirk, his foot hit something cold at the end of the vault. He inched forward and inspected the objects with his fingers. There were several woven containers holding some type of sweetly scented reeds, an empty earthen pot and one filled with wine, some bread, several thin sticks that felt waxy like candles, and what he judged to be a flint rock.

It took several attempts before he was able to strike a spark and catch a flame on the rough candle. With interest, he observed their cramped quarters. The rock was roughly hewn by primitive chisels; most of the chamber seemed to be a natural formation, shaped and reworked for the natives’ purpose. In contrast, the cloth was far more advanced, luxurious.

Bracing himself against the wall, he tested the weight of the end stone. He used all his considerable strength, but it refused to move a millimeter. Giving up the effort as useless, he returned his attention to Kirk, who slept peacefully on the silken bed, looking wonderfully young and vulnerable. Spock studied him for a long time, abstractedly calculating the volume of the chamber and the amount of oxygen remaining. He noted, however, that the flame on the candle was burning brightly, and flickering occasionally, as if catching an air current, validating his earlier theory that the chamber did not possess an air-tight seal.

After a time, Kirk stirred, murmured something incomprehensible, and opened his eyes. He seemed dazed; his pupils were widely dilated, turning the hazel to a dark grey, nearly black in the candlelight.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes before looking at Spock in confusion. “Where are we?” he muttered.

“I do not know the precise location,” Spock replied calmly, “but I believe this is a tomb.”

Kirk’s eyes widened further at that, and he sat up, nearly striking his head. “What? What are you talking about? I . . .” He glanced around, then met Spock’s gaze. “How long have we been here? What the hell happened?”

“I was unconscious also, but I have been awake for one point three hours, and during that time I have been considering our circumstances. I’m afraid the outlook is bleak. My last memories are unreliable, but I believe we were overcome by fumes, probably some kind of natural gas. It undoubtedly caused a paralysis that was mistaken for death.”

Kirk swallowed; his fingernails dug into his clenched fists in an effort to stem his rising panic. “You’re saying we’ve been . . . buried alive?”

“Entombed, to be precise.” The Vulcan’s gaze shifted uncomfortably. “I am at fault. I failed to take thorough readings of—”

“You can’t blame yourself, Spock,” Kirk broke in impatiently. “It was just another example of my jumping in head first.” He paused, trying to think. “What about the landing party? How long before we’re missed?”

“The natives most likely were hesitant about explaining our fate out of fear of retaliation. The survey party may believe we beamed up to the ship; it could be some time before they learn otherwise.”

“Just great.” Kirk covered his face with his hands for a second, then looked up. “Why did they put us here? Maybe they’re only keeping us prisoner?” he suggested hopefully.

Spock shook his head. “I am certain this is their normal form of burial.· Logically, they thought us deceased, and this was intended as an act of kindness—even honor. They went to some trouble to make us—our corpses, rather—comfortable.” He pointed out the ceramic containers. “Funeral gifts to the deceased for their Journey to the Afterlife. And a means to light the way.” He indicated the candles. “As I mentioned earlier, they consider death a very sacred and important event.”

Silently, Kirk considered this, sliding up to lean against the wall, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms tightly around them. “So . . . how long do we have left?” he asked in a strangely quiet voice. “Before the air runs out?”

“There is no problem where that is concerned. I have been studying the situation for some time, and this chamber is evidently far from airtight, or we would certainly have expired long before now. The tomb is primitive in design, and there are numerous cracks and air channels in the rock. We shall not suffocate.”

For once, Kirk’s expression was unreadable but the news didn’t seem to cheer him. He didn’t answer.

“There is enough food and liquid to last for at least several days,” Spock offered. “That may afford Mr. Scott time to locate us.”

The Captain had a strange, closed look that Spock couldn’t recall seeing before. “You don’t believe that any more than I do,” Kirk said stonily. “How can they find us in this maze of tombs when the sensors can’t penetrate the rock? You said yourself that the natives won’t let the landing party approach the burial grounds. What’s Scotty supposed to do? Disregard the Prime Directive and rip open all the tombs? Even if the natives do tell our people what happened, they’ll think we’re dead too.” He laughed harshly. “So what chance do we have, Spock? What would you say our odds are this time?”

“Jim, don’t—” Spock hesitated. He had no promises to offer, and the odds weren’t good. But this sudden surrender worried him; it was so unlike Kirk. “It is illogical to relinquish hope so quickly,” he finished awkwardly.

Kirk gave him a bitter smile. “I thought hope was a human emotion.”

“Not always. If there is a chance—”

“Can you tell me any way we can dig, scratch, or claw our way out of this?” Kirk demanded.

“No,” Spock replied honestly. “Not at present. The end stone is too firmly placed; I tried to move it earlier. It is impossible to apply sufficient leverage in this space to move it. We will try again, together, of course, but—”

Kirk interjected, “So we’re stuck. We’re going to die here with the proverbial whimper. Funny, I always pictured a more glorious finish.”

“Jim—” Spock began, but was cut off roughly.

“Stop it! Stop trying to give me hope. Just let me accept this the best way I can, okay?” With those bitter words, Kirk buried his face against his knees.

Spock felt the urge to move closer, but kept his distance. He didn’t understand what was happening to the Captain, or how to deal with it. This was so unlike any of Kirk’s previous behaviors that he was at a complete loss of how to cope. They had been in dangerous situations many times before—situations that had been just as desperate, seemed as hopeless, when the odds of escape had been ridiculously low, but Kirk had always been the last to give up. Eternally optimistic, never surrendering. Spock couldn’t fathom this abrupt change in his personality, this marked withdrawal.

Patiently, Spock sat back to wait, confident that sooner or later a flash of Kirk’s old stubbornness and determination would return, and he would be himself again. This lapse had to be temporary—the sudden shock of situation or perhaps a lingering effect of the gas.

Seeing no logic in wasting the candle when they might need the light later, Spock blew it out.

Kirk gasped and lunged forward in the dark, grabbing the Vulcan roughly. “No! Don’t! Keep the light on . . . please . . .”

Spock was, amazed to feel Kirk shaking violently. “Perhaps we should conserve the candles,” he suggested.

“No! I want the light . . . I can’t . . . Damnit, light the candle!”

Concerned by the choked terror he heard in the voice, Spock struck the flint until he had the flame burning once more. Kirk had huddled back in the corner, his face drained of color, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He was nearly hyperventilating.

“Jim . . . are you all right?”

“No, I’m not . . . all right, damn you,” Kirk hissed through clenched teeth.. “How . . . can I be . . . be all right . . . here?” He was still trembling, but his breathing was gradually slowing. The panic hung in his eyes, making them huge and dark in the dim light.

Involuntarily, Spock reached out. “Jim, what is it? Tell me, please.”

“I . . . don’t know. I couldn’t breathe. The dark . . . I felt as if I was . . . being crushed.” He bit his lip, furious at his weakness.

Spock was bewildered. He had seen Jim Kirk frightened before—he had always been a man brave enough to acknowledge his fear—but never panic-stricken. No matter how grim the situation, he would never have expected this from Jim. Claustrophobia? It wasn’t a logical condition to plague a man who had chosen to spend the majority of his life within the confines of a starship. And yet, there was no doubting the sheer terror that the darkness and closeness of this space were generating in the Captain.

Feeling helpless to do much else, Spock handed Kirk the jug of wine. “Drink this, Jim. Perhaps it will help.”

Kirk gulped thirstily, then handed it back. “I’m okay now. Sorry that I acted so stupidly. I don’t know what got into me. Maybe it’s just the primal fear of being buried alive. Too many horror stories when I was a kid, I guess. Edgar Allen Poe.”

Spock couldn’t believe it was merely that. “I am . . . apprehensive . . . also, Jim,” he said softly, trying to make Kirk feel more at ease.

“But you’re not making a fool of yourself,” Kirk said. He dropped his head wearily into his hands. “I just can’t seem to handle this.”

“Your fear is natural. Do not be ashamed of it. I understand.”

Kirk’s head jerked up. “No, I don’t think you do. I don’t understand it myself, so can you understand it? I never thought of myself as a . . . coward . . . before.”

“You’re not—”

“Just leave me alone, Spock,” he snapped. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

They both fell silent, with the Vulcan grimly calculating how long the small supply of candles would last before Kirk would be forced to deal with the darkness.

* * *

“You can’t mean to simply give up! You have to keep looking for them.”

“Aye, Doctor, we’ll do that—for all the good it’ll do us.”

Scott sounded as tired as he looked. “We canna pick ‘em up on the sensors, and from what the villagers told us, it will do no good if we did.”

“You’re not just going to take their word for it that Jim and Spock are dead, are you?” McCoy demanded. “Blasted savages!”

“They’re nae savages, an’ well ye know it. These people wouldna harm a fly, an’ they have nae reason to lie aboot the Captain an’ Mr. Spock.” Scott’s accent became more noticeable in his dismay of the situation.

“I won’t believe it until we have proof,” McCoy said stubbornly.

“Nor will I, but we cannae dismiss their claims, nor can we establish the truth of them. They willna tell us where they put ‘em,” Scott explained patiently, “an’ we canna desecrate their burial grounds by searchin’ through them—not wi’out breakin’ every rule in the book. As much as I want ta locate the Captain an’ Mr. Spock, it’d be a direct violation of the non-interference directive, an’ I cannae condone that.”

“Listen,” McCoy said, desperate, “the lab is analyzing those fumes right now. Some of the properties are unfamiliar, but I’m not positive the gas would have been fatal. It depends a lot on how long they were exposed. If I’m right, they may still be alive. It undoubtedly lowered their vital signs, and these people couldn’t realize it didn’t necessarily mean—”

“Aye. I hope you’re right.” The haggard expression lifted slightly, but Scott avoided the Doctor’s eyes. “But it still does nae help us find them.”

“We’ve got to! We have to convince them to help us. Explain that they could have made a mistake. We can’t give up.”

“No one said anythin’ aboot givin’ up,” the Engineer replied glumly. “But I’d much rather it was the Captain here makin’ the decision.”

* * *

Kirk stared at the low flickering of the last candle. All his attention was riveted on the dying flame, every fiber of his being tensed and waiting. Spock watched him anxiously, wondering how the inevitable blackness would affect him. The Human had calmed for a while earlier, and had even been able to rationally discuss what possible methods Scott might be using to locate them.

“Bones’ll be on Scotty’s back every inch of the way, if I know him,” Kirk had said, even managing a weak smile at the thought.

“For once I have reason to appreciate the good Doctor’s tenacity,” Spock had answered drily.

“But I also know Mr. Scott, and he follows the rules. More than that, he believes in them deeply, so he won’t violate the Prime Directive. I think I can trust him on that.”

But now they were on the last candle, and Kirk’s fear was growing stronger as the light burned weaker. He noticed Spock’s searching look and shrugged, trying to throw off some of his worry. “Bet you never imagined you’d see me . . . afraid of the dark, did you?” he said lightly. But his eyes were tortured, pleading for understanding.

“Jim,” Spock said gently, “it is not only that. There must be some deeper basis for your fear.”

“God, what’s wrong with me? I feel like such a fool—” He broke off as the flame flared higher at the end of the wick, then sputtered and died.

There was a long, enveloping silence. Spock could sense the waves of increasing terror pouring from the Human’s body, and imagined he could hear the rapid pounding of Kirk’s heart as each dark moment passed.

Kirk’s breath was coming more quickly, and although it was not cold in the chamber, his teeth chattered as if he were freezing. For a time Spock searched his mind frantically for a way to help Jim manage this. Then, suddenly, it seemed the most natural action in the universe to pull Kirk tightly into his arms, holding him, giving him support and comfort. “I am here, Jim.”

Kirk clung to him, shaking. His smooth skin was covered with a sheen of cold sweat. The embrace, though it helped, did not completely stave off the growing horror. The trembling increased, and his breath came in swift, choking gasps.

“Jim, you must try to control your breathing. Please try to relax.”

“I . . . can’t. I feel like . . . I’m smothering. Help me . . .”

He was hyperventilating again, on the point of passing out, when Spock touched a certain nerve in his shoulder and Kirk collapsed unconscious in his arms. He stretched the Human out and lay beside him, pulling him close once more—this time as much for his own comfort as Jim’s.

The more Spock thought about Jim’s inexplicable fear, the more he became convinced that this bizarre situation must have triggered some hidden—or perhaps blocked—incident in Kirk’s past. He certainly had justification for his fear, considering the circumstances; but this wasn’t a fear of death, and it was exaggerated all out of proportion to what was normal reaction for James Kirk. It didn’t match any of his previous behavior; therefore the cause had to be other than their present difficulties.

Perhaps if he could discover the root of this panic . . . ? Spock positioned his hand on Kirk’s face, uncertain about invading his mind without permission, but determined to help in any way possible. Jim’s welfare was his priority, and nothing else seemed very important at the moment.

As always, there was a pleasurable thrill on entering this Human’s mind. Slightly chaotic, true, but far more disciplined than any other Vulcan would expect. But Spock had been here before and knew the strength and basic clearness of vision.

It was a complex and brilliant mind, strong and dynamic, with the personality blazing brightly, welcoming and open. But this time, once through the first layer of subconscious thought, the problem jumped out with startling force. It was very near the surface, and so very real that Spock was forced to pull back a little to remain objective _. . . it was black and cold . . . water splashed around his ankles . . . no space to move. And when he did move, dirt and sludge and broken stones crumbled in around him, threatening to cut off his breathing. Things scuttled and squeaked and brushed past him in the darkness . . . creatures made huge and menacing by a small boy’s imagination . . . rats, spiders, snakes, centipedes . . . and other things formless and even more terrifying . . . all the denizens of a nightmare world were here to torment him . . . no escape . . . he couldn’t even cry anymore. And he hurt . . . he hurt so bad . . . he was cold, and scared . . . could hardly breathe . . . more earth and rocks were sliding down to crush him . . . bury him in this blackness . . . in this lightless pit . . . deeper . . . deeper . . ._

The terror and despair were so overwhelming that Spock’s hand was shaking on Kirk’s face. He didn’t quite understand what had happened, for these were a child’s memories and a child’s terror; but there was no doubt that this experience, whatever it was, had to be the source of Kirk’s present problem.

Spock soothed the child lovingly, promised him safety, then withdrew slightly to consider the best course to take. He couldn’t erase the memory or plant a suggestion to forget, for it was an old memory, tied to too many others, and embedded far too deeply. The wisest course was to suggest that the mind draw on pleasant memories, dreams, or fantasies, hoping that they would overshadow the other.

He placed the suggestion firmly, confident that Kirk, of all people, had an abundance of pleasant images to choose from, and withdrew gently from the Human’s mind.

In a few moments Kirk murmured something and curled up tighter in the Vulcan’s arms, contentment radiating from his peacefully sleeping form. Spock closed his eyes in relief. With any luck, the fear wouldn’t be as intense when Jim awoke.

Spock rubbed his cheek against the Human’s hair, feeling a strange tenderness flow warmly through him. It felt so very good to be able to hold Jim close, to ease his fears, to protect him. That thought almost made him smile. _Protect him? How ironic. Here we are, trapped in a tomb, and I think I’m protecting him? I should have protected him earlier when it might have done some good, before I permitted my curiosity and his impetuosity to lead us into this disastrous outcome._

Still, even considering how brief and unpromising their futures appeared at the moment, he felt oddly content, satisfied—even happy. Aware of how absurd and selfish his feeling were, he still couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to be holding Jim like this. How often had he had the opportunity to express his feelings for Jim?

 _His love?_ Cradling him in his arms like this almost made up for the years of dignified distance he’d kept between them. Spock savored the sweet sensations. It was amazing how well Jim fit into his embrace—as if he belonged there.

Nearly three hours later, Kirk began to stir. Spock waited apprehensively for him to wake fully and remember where he was.

The Human took a deep, contented breath and tightened his arms around Spock’s waist. “Hephaestion,” he whispered sleepily, “I’m glad you’re here. My dreams were troubling.”

 _He is not awake_ , Spock told himself sternly, as Kirk’s hand slid up his side to stroke the Vulcan’s chest. _The pleasant memory I suggested he find—it may still linger. But with whom is he confusing me?_

“Hephaestion,” Kirk murmured once again, “ . . . my friend . . . my love . . .”

“Jim, are you awake?” Spock asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

At the sound of his voice, Kirk stiffened, taking in the reality of the warm body against him and recalling abruptly where he was. “Spock?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

“I . . . think so.” Kirk paused for a second, recovering himself. “I don’t seem to be quite as . . . as scared as I was before.”

While this was true, Spock noted that Kirk had not pulled away. Obviously, he still needed the security of the Vulcan’s arms, even though much of the tension was gone.

“Did you . . . help me with the mind meld? I remember . . .” He trailed off.

“What do you remember?” Spock prompted.

“Something that happened when I was very young—no more than five or six. I must have forgotten it until now. That’s strange that I should forget something like that.”

“Actually, it is not. If it was traumatic or frightening enough, your conscious mind probably blocked it. The conditions here might have brought it to the surface.”

“I suppose that’s what happened. The memory is very clear now.” His head nodded against Spock’s chest. “Yes, I remember my mother taking me to a doctor—some kind of therapist I’m assuming. I think I was hypnotized. I didn’t like it, but I hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks without waking up screaming. I realize now that she was trying to help, and I guess it worked because I didn’t recall any of this until now.”

“Do you wish to tell me about it?”

Kirk rested his cheek on Spock’s shoulder as he told his story, not noticing as the Vulcan’s hand moved to cup the side of his face. “I was always wandering off when I was a kid. Exploring, tagging after Sam—anything to be out and doing things. Sam had a habit of sneaking off early in the morning to hunt squirrels or quail in the woods a few miles from our house. The whole area had No Hunting signs plastered all over, and the last thing Sam wanted was a kid brother following along and not being able to outrun the Game Warden if we were spotted. Like every kid brother from the dawn of time, I knew what he was up to, even though Mom didn’t. As a matter of fact, after all this happened, Mom took the pellet gun away from him, and he couldn’t sit down for a week. But I think it scared him so badly, he almost didn’t care.

“Anyway, I followed him one morning without his knowing. I don’t know how he didn’t spot me—or hear me, rather. I must have sounded like a miniature tank, stomping through those woods, kicking up leaves, and generally having the time of my life. Naturally, I wound up getting lost. It didn’t bother me at first; I figured I’d find my way out sooner or later. But what I found first was an abandoned well. The cover was rotten and covered over with leaves, and I fell right through it. Later it turned out that I’d sprained my ankle, cracked a rib and dislocated my shoulder. All I knew then was that I hurt. That well must’ve been about a hundred years old; it was pretty much caved in. I fell about ten or twelve feet, I guess.

There were only a few inches of water on the bottom. But I couldn’t get out, and every time I even tried to climb—in spite of my shoulder—more dirt and loose stones came down on me. At one point a whole section collapsed, and I was buried almost up to my neck. By the time night came, it was even worse. I was cold and in pain, and every few minutes more dirt would crumble down the sides to choke me. I think what bothered me the most, though, was that it was dark and I couldn’t see what else was down there. I could hear things, but I knew there was no way I could run away from them. I was trapped.

“They found me late the next morning. I was lucky; a few more hours and I probably would’ve died of suffocation or exposure. As it was, they had a devil of a time getting me out without the whole thing caving in on me.”

Spock wasn’t sure what to say, aching with sympathy for a small, frightened boy, and suddenly enlightened that the small boy was still very much a part of Jim—and could still be just as frightened. At last he said, “It is not so surprising that this situation should bring it all back to you so strongly.”

“Well, thanks for making it . . . a little more understandable, Spock. You _did_ take my fear away, didn’t you?”

“No, you conquered the fear yourself. I merely assisted you to discover the root cause. I have never known you to be frightened of what you can fight.”

Kirk hugged him tighter. “Thank you. I’m not sure it’s conquered. I’m still plenty scared. But I can handle it now.” Kirk’s voice was calmer, almost back to normal. However, Spock could feel the beating of the heart where they were pressed together, and he somehow sensed it wasn’t only fear that made it quicken. “I’d give anything if you weren’t stuck in this with me, Spock. And yet . . . I think I would have cracked completely without you to hold onto.”

They both fell silent for some time, until Spock felt that he had to ask. “Jim, who is . . . Hephaestion? The name is vaguely familiar, but I cannot quite place the context.”

Kirk didn’t answer for a moment, and Spock felt him tense slightly. “Uh . . . why do you want to know?”

“You spoke his name when you were half-awake. You seemed to think I was he.”

“Oh, I see. That’s odd. I was dreaming about them, but it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt so real, like I was living it.” He fell silent for a moment, and for some reason Spock felt Jim was little embarrassed. “Hephaestion was a general in Alexander’s army. I know you’re familiar with Alexander the Great.”

“From ancient Earth history? Yes, I know of him. He conquered most of the known world of his time. A Greek, and someone I know you admire.”

“Yes. But he was more than a great soldier and king. He wasn’t merely a conqueror. He had radical ideas for that time: brotherhood, a united world, respect for other cultures and gods. He built more cities than he destroyed, and he was fair and just with those he conquered—once they surrendered at least. If they refused, all bets were off. He was a great man in many ways. I guess he’s always been a hero of mine. A very personal one.”

“From what I have read, you are much like him.”

Kirk chuckled. “I’m no Alexander, Spock.”

“On the contrary, there are similarities. I think you have patterned much of your behavior after his, consciously or unconsciously. He, too, fought at the side of his men, pressing into danger even ahead of them.”

“And he, too, had his Hephaestion to chide him for it,” Kirk mumbled, then said louder, “It’s just a good command tactic. Leading by example. It works very well.”

“And burns out the commanders early,” Spock countered. “I believe Alexander died quite young.”

“Well, looks like I’ve outlived him by a couple of years, anyway,” Kirk observed drily. “Although, considering our current situation, not by much.”

Spock’s long fingers combing through Kirk’s hair with unconscious sensuality. The soothing action gave a dreamy aura of unreality to the conversation.

Kirk continued, “I must admit, I’ve often compared you with Hephaestion. He was everything to Alexander: his right-hand man, his best friend, his confidant, his—” He broke off, stretching restlessly beside the Vulcan. “I suppose he wasn’t really like you at all. He was rumored to have a violent temper—except with Alexander—and that isn’t like you. But . . . Alexander nearly lost his reason when Hephaestion died; it was like losing part of himself. In fact, he only outlived his friend by three months. I’ve often thought . . .” He hesitated for a second. “ . . . if I lost you, it would be very hard to go on.”

Spock had no idea how to answer this. He felt the same, but the words just refused to come. It seemed so much simpler to transmit his feelings through the embrace. It felt so right, and Jim still seemed to want it—even though fear was no longer the reason. He could sense that Kirk was on the verge of saying something else, but was unsure about speaking.

It was some time before Kirk ventured to speak again. His voice was low, the words almost whispered against Spock’s shoulder. “Hephaestion was more than Alexander’s friend, Spock. They were lovers.”

“Indeed?” Spock kept his tone carefully neutral.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“From what I know of that culture, it was not an uncommon relationship.”

The noncommittal reply effectively silenced Kirk for a moment.

Spock realized Kirk was leading up to something, but he wasn’t certain if it would be a good idea to encourage him. They were treading on explosive emotional ground.

“Spock?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“I . . . Oh, hell, this shouldn’t be so hard, not now. But . . .” Kirk’s hand moved up to touch Spock’s face. “I’ve wanted to say this for a long while, but the time just never seemed right. I guess I was afraid I would offend you. But it doesn’t look like I’ll get another chance if I don’t say it now.” Again, he paused.

Spock’s throat felt tight. “You may say anything to me. Anything at all.”

Kirk shifted slightly so he was above Spock and Spock could feel his breath on his face. “You’ve . . . become very important to me, and I guess I’ve kind of taken for granted that I’d have all the time in the world to let you know how much you mean to me. I . . . love you, Spock.”

There was a short silence; then Kirk rambled on quickly, as if to cut off a reaction from the Vulcan. “You know, it was a lot easier to say that in the dark.” He lowered his head and smiled against Spock’s shoulder. “Now, there’s a switch. Suddenly I’m glad it’s dark. At least you can’t see how red my face is.”

Spock decided it might be better to keep the tone of this light. “I find it challenging to picture you blushing, Jim.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t really embarrass me to tell you that. I was just afraid it would embarrass you.” He waited a moment, then added, “I wanted you to know how I feel. My pride—or even Vulcan decorum—doesn’t seem such a big deal right now.” There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, and Spock realized, with a jolt, that Kirk had expected some response. He sighed deeply. “But I can see how emotional—”

“Yes,” Spock broke in. “It is extremely emotional.”

“I’m sorry.” Kirk started to pull away, but Spock firmly pulled him back.

“You must let me finish. You statement was emotional—but it was also logical.”

“What?”

Spock actually chuckled. “You spoke of Alexander and Hephaestion, but you forgot ancient Vulcan history. We _also_ had warriors.” Before Kirk had time to assimilate the implications, he continued, “Demonstrative words do not come easily to me, but the feelings have existed for a long time. I also . . . care for you, Jim. I find these things difficult to express.”

Kirk lifted his head from Spock’s shoulder and said breathlessly, “Maybe . . . there’s another way to express it.” Before his courage deserted him, he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against Spock’s. “Does your Vulcan dignity object to that?” he asked softly, and ran his hand through the silky hair.

Spock’s ability to speak had abandoned him completely. Kirk needn’t have worried about his Vulcan dignity or reserve; what was occupying his mind was his ignorance of what to do next. As undemanding and gentle as it had been, the kiss was an awakening. He had been kissed before— _Leila_ —but he had been effected by the spores, and it had not resonated in him as this kiss did now. The deep satisfaction he’d found in simply holding Jim had hinted at the desire for more—but he would never have dared ask for more. That a simple kiss, a mere brushing of lips, could affect him so strongly amazed him. At this point, Vulcan was the furthest thing from his mind.

Kirk misinterpreted the silence. “I’m sorry, Spock. I guess I’m jumping in head first again. I’ll never learn—not that I’ll have much time to, now . . .”

As Kirk started to pull away again, Spock found his voice. “No, Jim.” With an unerring sense of direction in the dark, he located Kirk’s mouth, and this kiss was neither light nor brief. When he finally moved back, Kirk was too startled to say anything.

“There are times,” Spock explained, “when your impetuosity is dangerous—and there are times when it is astonishingly brilliant.”

The entire line of their nude bodies was intimately pressed together, and Spock could feel the stirring of Kirk’s genitals against his. The need was building swiftly in both of them, coaxed by the secretive, private darkness, the luxury of the silken bed, and the soft whisper of flesh against flesh.

“A while ago I was scared out of my wits,” Kirk murmured. He traced the line of Spock’s collarbone with one finger. “Now, I’m still scared, and I can’t help wondering if I’m doing this as some kind of shield against the fear. And if that’s fair to you.”

“Does it help?”

“I don’t know. It’s easier to stand it—to accept—when you’re holding me.”

“Then that is all that matters.”

“No, it means more than that. I want to show you how much you are to me, and . . . I need to feel loved. I don’t want to waste what time we have.”

“You are . . . loved,” Spock said fervently, caressing Jim’s back. “I cannot speak it well, but I can feel it. I _can_ feel it.” He repeated it again, slightly surprised.

Pleased at the words, Kirk sighed. “If I’ve thought of this before—and I guess I have—I always thought you’d run from it.”

“There is no place to run,” Spock pointed out. “And perhaps I am weary of running. I cannot say I contemplated _this_ —but I yearned for something more from you.”

Kirk’s hand moved back on Spock’s face, tracing the strong features, seeing them clearly in his mind’s eye. Lightly he outlined the high cheekbones, the straight nose, the cantered eyebrows. He brushed back the bangs, then hesitated at the mouth until he sought it with his own.

The kiss was deep and exploring, and this time Spock let him take the lead, holding his breath in delight· as Kirk’s tongue teased his lips and slid into his mouth. Kirk’s hand continued its path down the Vulcan’s body, stroking, drifting over the furred chest and hard stomach, between the thighs, centering on the impatient genitals. Spock’s body shifted restlessly, moving with increasing rhythm with the Human’s knowing hand, more aroused than he could ever remember.

The Vulcan was too fiercely excited to be shy or uncertain. He ran slightly open lips over Kirk’s throat, tongue licking at the pulse that raced there, moving rapidly down the chest and stomach, driven by his own impatient fire. As he reached the erect organ, Kirk gasped; and Spock hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to do.

Desperate, Kirk encouraged him, boldly entwining fingers in his hair and pressing him closer. Spock took the cock fully into his mouth and Kirk arched upward, crying out at the exquisite feeling. The incredible sensations burgeoned and grew until Kirk knew he would come in the next instant, but the Vulcan pulled away and returned to the welcoming mouth.

Their bodies swayed together in delighted abandon, seeking release. Engorged cocks touched, pressed together, moved in unison until the passion burst into its fiery, joyful conclusion.

They lay close, still wrapped in each other’s arms, breath ragged, scattered senses spiraling slowly back to normal. Kirk sighed contentedly, and dreamily placed a line of light kisses along Spock’s shoulder. “I discovered one thing,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“Indeed?” Spock’s voice was a satisfied rumble.

“It’s hard to be passionate and terrified at the same time.” Kirk chuckled. “A very efficient antidote. What’s the old saying? At least I’ll die happy . . .” He trailed off as he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry, Spock. I guess black humor is in bad taste right now. I suppose I’m a little bitter that it took something like this to make it happen. I’ve loved you for a long time. I wish I’d had enough guts to tell you before.”

“We have now, Jim. It is not logical to waste the remaining time in regrets.”

“It’s not that easy. You see, I don’t want to die.” He hugged the Vulcan tightly. “Especially not now.”

* * *

Eelec carefully studied the man who stood in front of him. His eyes were the color of the sky reflected in water on a sunlit morning. They were kind eyes, honest and true. And now they were frantic and full of despair.

“All we ask is that you show us their tomb,” McCoy insisted. “We swear not to disturb any others. They are our friends; we have a right to see them.”

The old man regarded him solemnly, his face compassionate and concerned. “I am sorry, good visitor, but they have begun their Voyage. Even if they are your friends, it would not be right for you to intrude on them. How could we allow such desecration? You need not be concerned. We gave them all proper honors in burial. Their Journey will be pleasant.”

McCoy held himself together with an effort. “Listen, we know you acted in good faith, but you may have made a mistake. They might not be dead . . . uh, prepared to take the . . . journey.”

Doubtfully, Eelec shook his head. “How could that be? There was no breath in them. The blood was no longer beating in their hearts.”

“I analyzed the fumes . . . uh, the bad air, and I know what . . .” McCoy realized that this was going to be difficult to explain. “You see, your people are different from us in many ways. Your lungs and nervous systems are more sensitive. What I’m trying to say is that the . . . bad air . . . isn’t fatal to our people. At least not until they breathe it for several hours—and we know the gas is periodic, a geyser. It only lasts a few minutes at a time.” Oddly enough, the old man seemed to be following what he was saying, in spite of the unfamiliar terms. “The gas acts like a narcotic, and amazingly fast. It deadens the nerves, causes a temporary paralysis. It slows the autonomic systems. When your people discovered our friends, they appeared dead, but they weren’t.” McCoy didn’t add that they might well be dead by now; there was no way of being sure if the tombs were sealed and airtight, in which case Jim and Spock would have been dead two days ago. McCoy didn’t want to face that possibility.

Eelec looked alarmed. “If what you say is true . . . It must not be! It is unthinkable.”

“We have to be sure,” McCoy pleaded. “If they are alive, we can save them, if you’ll show us where they are. If they aren’t alive, we’ll—” He broke off and swallowed. “Well, they don’t belong here anyway. We will want to take them home. Their home—their sacred place is called _Enterprise_. You must see that. You have to help us. Please.”

Eelec thought for some time, then looked up. “I must consult with my people. I cannot believe it possible, but If the strangers do still live after their Journey, then there is something more to this.”

McCoy and Scott looked at each other, each holding their breath. Finally Scott said, “Perhaps you’ve convinced ‘em, Doctor. I’m not a praying mon, but I’m feelin’ the urge right now.”

“Well, I _am_ a praying man, and let’s just hope it stands in good stay now.”

It was some time before Eelec returned, and it seem like most all of the village was with him. He suddenly looked more animated, more _alive_ than McCoy had seen him react before. The other villages, both men and women also looked enthusiastic, almost giddy.

“Yes, we will help you,” Eelec told them breathlessly. “We must witness this miracle.”

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief and a quiet amen.

* * *

“Jim, what are you doing?” Spock murmured sleepily, unwilling to release Kirk from his arms.

“I’m thirsty, and it’s all your fault,” Kirk teased. “Talk about working up a sweat!” He slid down to the foot of the vault and picked up the clay pot.

“Perhaps—”

“Wait!” Kirk cut him off. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, a thumping sound.” Spock sat up, and they both remained very still, listening intently. The sound was repeated, a rhythmic knocking.

“Someone’s outside! They know we’re in here—they’re trying to get us out!” Kirk reached forward blindly in the dark until he located Spock, and hugged him wildly. Then he began tapping the ceramic jar against the end stone. “Scotty! Bones! We’re here we’re alive!”

In his exuberance, he struck the rock too hard, and the jug cracked open, splashing the wine out onto the floor.

“Was that really necessary, Jim?” Spock asked mildly. But his heart was beating as excitedly as the Captain’s.

Kirk laughed, the unbelievable chance for life making him lightheaded.

He’d more or less resigned himself to dying here in the darkness, and only Spock’s comfort and love had made it bearable. Now this unexpected reprieve had the adrenalin singing through his veins. Impatiently, he waited as the huge stone was pried inch by inch away from the opening.

The sunlight burst in, causing Kirk’s eyes to water even more than the natural tears that stung his eyelids. He held up his hand to block the light and wiped away the moisture, then slid through the opening, grabbing Spock’s arm and pulling him along.

“Jim! Spock!” McCoy’s voice was choked, and he pulled the Captain into a hearty embrace, fighting back tears himself. He stopped himself just in time before he did the same with the dignified Spock. Instead, he checked them both out quickly, tricorder humming. “If I can believe this machine, you’re both alive.”

Kirk’s legs felt shaky, and Spock unobtrusively supported him.

As his vision adjusted to the light, he grinned at McCoy and Scott. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but right now you two look absolutely gorgeous.”

The Doctor got a whiff of the strong wine and grinned back. “If you were gonna have a party, you might have invited me.”

“It was very exclusive,” Kirk laughed, tossing a secret glance at Spock, who quickly averted his eyes. Spock had wrapped one of the shrouds around his waist and he handed the other to Kirk, who absently did the same.

The Human took a deep, delicious breath of open air, then spun around to Scotty, as if just remembering. “How did you find us?” he demanded, suddenly very much the Captain. “You didn’t—”

“We didna break any taboos,” Scott soothed. “It was all on the up an’ up. We didna interfere with anything. ‘Twas the Doctor here who persuaded them to show us where you were. An’ I’m glad he did, for I was at ma wits’ end tryin’ ta figure oot how ta do it without violatin’ General Order One.”

“Gentlemen,” Spock broke in, practical as always, “did you by any chance have the foresight to bring us attire?”

McCoy chortled in delight, realizing how uncomfortable Spock must be standing there in a nearly translucent sheet—though he would have maintained his dignity under any circumstances. “Well, we couldn’t think of _everything_. How did we know they’d tuck you in bare-assed naked? Besides, you both look kinda cute—September Morn, blushes and all.”

“Stow it, Bones,” Kirk chuckled, and motioned to one of the Security Team. “Hanson, move out of sight and have a couple sets of native clothes beamed down.”

“Now wait a minute, Jim,” McCoy protested. “I want you two back on the ship right immediately. I’m gonna give you both complete physicals before I decide whether you’ve really risen from the dead.”

“You can give us all the physicals you want,” Kirk said, “but if you think I’m going to show up on that transporter platform stark naked, or wrapped in a silk sheet, you’re crazy.” A twinkle danced in his eyes. “That is, unless you’re prepared to strip, too.”

McCoy had no further objections.

On a rise not far away, the villagers were standing as if turned to stone. Slowly, they turned to look at each other with tears flowing freely down their faces that were blazing with joy and wonder.

* * *

“Well, Spock,” McCoy drawled, “your readings are as weird as always, so I reckon you’re normal.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock replied, deadpan. “That is comforting to know.”

“Hmmmm. Well, you can go—but stay off that Bridge for a couple of days. Take it easy. You’re bound to be a little shook up by all this.”

Spock’s eyebrow ascended skeptically. “‘Shook up’? I assure you, your less than astute medical diagnosis does not in any way describe—”

“Yada, yada. Never you mind. I don’t want to hear it. You just follow my orders, or I’ll ship you home to Vulcan on a medical leave.”

“Go on.” Kirk smiled at Spock. “I’ll see you later.” Spock nodded and left. Kirk sat up on the side of the bed.

“Are you about finished with me too, Bones?”

‘‘Yeah, you’re okay.”

“Am I?” Kirk asked softly. “I notice you didn’t give me a psych test.”

“You think you need one?”

“You’re the doctor—you tell me.”

“I trust my own judgment more than I do those blasted psych machines. And I trust you to tell me if something is bothering you.”

Kirk was silent for a while. Then: “I went through a rough time, Bones. In fact, I fell apart.”

“So?”

Kirk looked at him sharply. “So don’t you want to dig out your equipment now? Find out if I’m still able to command?”

McCoy shrugged. “Not until you tell me something unusual.”

Kirk stared at him. “Somehow I thought it was unusual for me to panic to the extent that I couldn’t do anything but shake. What kind of Captain does that make me?”

McCoy sighed. “Jim, do you think you’re made of granite or something? Your reaction was far from abnormal. You were buried alive, for god’s sake.”

“No, it was worse than that,” Kirk said grimly. “In fact, if it hadn’t been for Spock, I would have been insane when you pulled me out—if I hadn’t cut my wrists on one of those pots first. Spock didn’t panic.”

“Didn’t he? Why do you think I ordered him off duty for a couple of days? He was just as terrified as you were. His nerves are a wreck right now. I already knew it, but the mediscanner verified it. So just stop thinking you were the only one scared in there.”

“But he—”

“He held his fear in,” McCoy finished impatiently. “Of course he did. Because that’s natural for a Vulcan. It’s actually _easier_ for him to maintain an emotion status. Healthier. Just as it’s better for you, as a Human, to release your fear. Accept it and deal with it on a more emotional basis. There’s no reason to feel guilty or inadequate because of that.” He paused for a moment, studying Kirk. “Especially considering the subconscious trauma you had to deal with.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “How . . . did you know about that?”

“How do you think? It’s in your file. You know very well that Starfleet ran you through a grinder before they let you enter Command school—let alone gave you a starship to manage. Your psych profile is as thick as my thumb. Do you think those psychotherapists could’ve missed something as clear as that?”

“Then why didn’t they tell me about it? And why did they let me become a captain in the first place? It doesn’t make sense.”

“For one thing, the chances of something similar enough happening to trigger a response were pretty remote. For another, if they turned down every cadet because of some traumatic experience in his life, there’d be no one left to be a starship captain. And as for why they didn’t tell you about it—why should they? The subconscious has a very well-developed defense mechanism, and most of the time it’s right. It’s healthier to forget some things. That’s why most pain is forgotten more quickly than pleasure.

“Now, are you willing to believe that falling apart in that situation isn’t enough to brand you a coward for the rest of your life, or do I have to go on jawing at you until it sinks into that neutronium skull of yours?”

Kirk grinned sheepishly. “Please don’t. I think you’ve made your point. Actually, Spock made a similar point.” He slid off the bed and tugged down his shirt. “I guess I’m off duty for a couple of days too, right?”

“Right. A little rest and quiet won’t hurt you either. Neither will a little brandy. Want a drink before you go?”

“No thanks. I . . . think I’ll look in on Spock. Are you certain he’s all right now?”

“He’s fine. Just a natural case of the jitters—or maybe _unnatural_ for him. There’s still that pesky Human part of him. Which is why I wanted to make sure he relaxed and meditated or something. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen his readings so erratic.”

Kirk stared at him. “That doesn’t sound ‘fine’.”

McCoy shrugged. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. But it’s not the worst idea for you to check in on him. If I do, he’ll just think I’m babying him and insult me some more.”

“Thanks, Bones. And . . . thanks for getting us out of there.”

“Any time,” McCoy said gruffly. “Jim—if you have any nightmares, or anything like that, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

Kirk’s smile was enigmatic. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that. Not anymore. At least not _that_ nightmare.”

As the Captain turned toward the door, McCoy stopped him. “I can tell you one thing; being shut up in a small area with a Vulcan for two days would’ve had me clawing the walls.”

Kirk tossed him a mischievous grin. “You’d be surprised. If you have to be buried alive, it’s important to have good company.” McCoy’s doubtful snort followed him out the door.

When Kirk was admitted to the Vulcan’s quarters, he had the uncomfortable feeling he’d interrupted him in meditation. The lights were dim, and Spock was dressed in a loose Vulcan robe. His eyes were carefully neutral.

“Captain . . .” He seemed mildly startled by Kirk’s appearance. “I . . . thought you would spend some time with the Doctor.”

“I did, but . . . I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I am quite well, Captain.”

Kirk took his arm. “Are we going to go back to the way we were before, Spock? Is that what you really want? Do we just forget everything that happened? Can we?”

Spock lowered his head. “It was a different situation. Things are not the same here.”

“Yes, it’s different. We have a choice now. We’re not pushed together, facing death, desperate to show each other how we feel before it’s too late. It’s not dark now—we can see each other. See if our feelings hold up in the light of day. We have time to make a choice now.”

“You needed me then,” Spock murmured, still unwilling to look at Kirk.

“I will always need you. How can you doubt that? I still love you. Are you trying to tell me that your feelings have changed?”

“No,” Spock said quickly. “How could they? I’ve always . . .” He trailed off.

“Always what?” Kirk demanded.

“. . . loved you.”

“Then are you afraid of what happened between us? Afraid of loving me?”

“No.” Spock pulled away slightly. “It is not that.”

“Am I pushing you? Moving too fast? Would you rather I left you alone for a while?”

“No . . .”

Kirk lost his patience and took Spock’s face in his hands, forcing the brown eyes to meet his. “Will you for god’s sake stop saying no and say yes! Do you want me or not?”

The dark eyes softened and twinkled at the stubborn, baleful glare in Kirk’s. “Yes,” Spock whispered.

Kirk smiled and relaxed, the tension easing. “Well, it’s about time.”

And it was.

* * *

Five days later, the Head of the Anthropology Department appeared on the Bridge to report the latest findings to the Captain of the _Enterprise_.

“It’s really quite amazing, sir.” Blumenthal said breathlessly, so excited she could hardly talk. “We’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Like what? What have you seen?” Kirk wasn’t particularly interested, but Dr. Blumenthal was obviously elated about her discovery.

“The entire village—no, the entire society, because it has started in other villages as well—has started making huge advances in technology.”

“What kind of advances?”

“They started digging irrigation ditches the day after you returned to the _Enterprise_.”

McCoy caught the last of her comments as he entered the Bridge. “What’s so thrilling about an irrigation ditch?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “What’s so—? My goodness, don’t you see? For five thousand years these people haven’t advanced beyond basic primitive agronomy. The planet is so mild, it wasn’t really necessary for their survival. But now, suddenly they have made a huge innovation. And that’s not all—the next day they invented a water wheel. This is unprecedented! Just the day before, these people had no notion of what a wheel _was_!”

Kirk looked angry. “Someone on your team must have—”

“No!” She shot back, outraged. “I mean, no, sir. My people are too well trained to ever do something like that. Why would they? It would ruin the entire study. The pace of these advancements are incredible. Yesterday one of the village girls ground some grain, let it ferment and, honestly, it tastes very much like . . . beer.”

“Cheers to that,” Scotty chimed in. “Now when they get ta malt scotch—”

“Quiet, Mr. Scott,” Kirk growled. “Okay, Dr. Blumenthal, this is very serious. I cannot believe one of your people didn’t violate the—”

“I swear to you, sir, that did **_not_** happen! These people simply . . . woke up.”

Kirk was flummoxed. “Did you ask them what happened? Why the sudden change?”

“Of course.”

“And their answer?”

She looked uncomfortable. “I think it was you, sir.”

Now every crewman on the Bridge was riveting to the conversation.

“What . . . how . . .” Kirk sputtered. “What the devil are you talking about?”

She sighed. “All they would tell me is that the Journey had been completed and that the time of renewal had come at last.”

McCoy stepped closer, fascinated. “What do you think that means?”

“I think it must be some kind of resurrection myth.” She looked apologetically at the Captain. “I think when you and Mr. Spock came out of the tomb alive, it fulfilled some kind of ancient prophecy. Perhaps similar to the Mayan Baktun Long Count calendar, a cycle, where the world is meant to end and then begin again with a new cycle. In any case, it certainly lit a fire under them. At this rate they’ll have aqueducts and roads in ten years and steam engines in fifty. Or their cultural equivalents.”

McCoy goggled at Kirk. “My god, Jim, you did it _again_!”

Kirk’s mouth fell open, but he had no idea of what to say.

Then everyone on the Bridge turned in amazement at the sound of Spock of Vulcan actually laughing at loud.


End file.
